Saved
by Queen of Asgard
Summary: Four times Nick saved Rochelle's life, and the one time she saved his. Rochelle x Nick, slightly romantic towards the end.


**note**: Wow, I can't believe how in love I've fallen with this pairing. I also can't believe how fast I'm posting a second fic. But anyways, here it is, Four Times Nick Saved Rochelle's Life (And The One Time She Saved His), also known as Saved. Since there's a character limit on the title and all. :)

I know the beginning of this may make Rochelle seem like some sort of vulnerable damsel in distress, but bear with me -- I swear she proves herself at the end. I hope you like it! I'd love to hear what you think!

**S A V E D**

**Four Times Nick Saved Rochelle's Life  
(And The One Time She Saved His)**  
by: T'starla

**-**

**I.**

"Jockey's got me!"

Rochelle couldn't help but flail her arms as the putrid thing clung to her, its hands covering her face. It's weight on her shoulders was enough to make her stumble, and she almost went to her knees, but found that she couldn't. She'd never understand just how they did it, but those little bastards just knew how to control whoever they were riding.

She could feel herself being led away from the others, down the slanted road.

"Get this thing off me!" she shouted, trying to beat at it with her fists.

The Jockey only continued leading her, claws scratching at her face and pulling at her hair. Its legs tightened around her throat, and she felt her airway starting to be constricted – as scared as she was, she was also starting to get angry.

She'd be hella pissed if it was a little Jockey freak that did her in. She would come back and haunt the shit out of the others if they let her die in such a humiliating way.

The disgusting thing on top of her was still letting out its frenzied little grunts and squeals, and Rochelle used the end of her cricket bat to jab at it. Over the Jockey, she could hear the men calling out to each other, to her, and she could hear their gunfire. Bullets whizzed past her, but all of them missed the Jockey because she couldn't stop moving.

"Get that sucker!" Ellis was closest – a shotgun blast ripped past her.

What happened next was the kind of thing that you'd only expect in a bad horror movie. As if on cue, a high-pitched shriek sounded, and the familiar sound of a Spitter hit Rochelle's ears – it was close. She then heard the unmistakable noise of it spewing, and through the cracks in the Jockey's hands over her eyes, she saw something neon green flying through the air towards her.

It splattered at her feet, spreading quickly, and she tried desperately to fight against the Jockey's pull as her boots came down in the gunk. Almost instantly, she could feel it starting to burn through the soles of her shoes, and she cried out in pain – this was just great.

"God damnit, I'm covered in burnin' goo shit!" Nick's voice rose over the others – he seemed to be the closest now. "I hate that bitch!"

"I could use some help here!" Even Rochelle could hear the desperation that had filled her voice now. Every passing second felt like an hour, and the pain from the Jockey on top of her just seemed to intensify. She felt like she'd die of suffocation before anybody was able to help her. "Get it _off_!"

All of a sudden, the Jockey's grasp loosened, and it was thrown forward by the force of whatever had hit it from behind. It went flying forward, and because it's legs were still wrapped around Rochelle's neck, she went staggering with it.

She went to her hands and knees in the acid green spit, and she yelped as electrifying pain shot up her arms. She quickly scrambled out of the gunk, and after she'd cleared it, promptly collapsed onto the tarmac. The sizzling of the goo against the pavement went on for a few moments or so, before it started to fade.

With the Jockey's stink still flooding her nostrils, she sat up slightly, and looked for the others. Her hair had come slightly loose, and she pushed it back out of her face as she caught sight of Nick, who was the first to reach her. There was a little of the Spitter goo on the front of his shirt, but it seemed to have already dried, and he was holding his hunting rifle – she'd recognized the sound of the shot.

"Thanks," she said as he neared her. "Thought that was it for me."

"Wouldn't let one of them humping bastards take you down like that," Nick said, and he held a hand out to her.

Feeling rather weak and drained, she took a steadying breath before she placed her hand in his. His grip was firm and rough, his skin calloused, and his hand was a little bigger than hers – she realized that she was spending way too much time observing this, as she was already on her feet again, so she all but tore her hand out of his.

He didn't seem to notice.

"Thanks," she said again. She tried to take a step, but her feet still burned and ached. "Oh." She lurched forward.

Nick grabbed her by one of her arms so that she wouldn't fall, and he turned her so that she was facing him. He studied her, his intense gaze piercing through her, and she felt strange all of a sudden. Heat was slowly creeping up her neck and into her face, and she hoped the minor scratches and bruises on her face could hide her blush.

She tried to convince herself that the flutter of her heart was only because Nick had just saved her life. When he gave her his pills, she tried to convince herself that the swelling in her chest was only because she was grateful.

-

**II.**

The Tank's growls were loud and menacing, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once. The sounds were carried on a wind of sorts, and it moved through the trees around them, making it impossible for them to know where the monster would come from.

"Keep movin'," Coach said, breath short. "Ain't no point in us standing here all day waiting for it. It'll come out when it wants."

"Great, let's just go coax it out," Nick said, following Coach first. "I'm sure it'll be delighted."

"You always got to be such a smartass, Nick?" Rochelle asked.

"It's just who I am, sweetheart."

Rochelle stopped, mid-step, and Ellis walked into her.

"Hey! Oh, sorry Ro." He gave a little grunt as he fought his way through the mud of the swamp, moving around her to follow Coach and Nick's lead. They were all having trouble making it through the bog, having to take extra big steps and kick their legs higher than usual as they moved.

She made a noise of acknowledgement in her throat, even though she didn't form any actual words – she was too busy staring at the back of Nick's head. It didn't mean anything, she knew – he probably called every girl he talked to 'sweetheart,' especially since he'd said it in such a sarcastic way. He _was_ that kind of guy, after all.

She was trying to read too much into it, wasn't she?

Shaking her head to herself, she started to follow again.

She hated that they were stuck traveling through the swamp – it stunk, there were too many bugs, and it slowed them down. Not to mention the fact that it was infested with zombies, of course. Zombies who didn't seem the least bit affected by the marsh. While Rochelle and the others had to move much slower to get through it, zombies were able to rush at their normal speeds.

"Man, what I wouldn't give for a nice hot bath right about now," Rochelle said, and she smacked at a mosquito on her neck.

"A smooth shot of Jack," Nick said.

"Ho ho, good ol' Tennessee," Ellis said, chortling. "I'd take about six shots."

"Some of my mom's peach pound cake," Coach said. "We ever make it outta here, I'll have to introduce y'all to some _real_ food."

Rochelle and Ellis laughed, but before anyone could respond, the Tank decided it was ready to come out. And it was a _lot_ closer than any of them had anticipated.

With a rage-filled yell, it crashed through the trees to the right of them, all but uprooting a few. It moved towards them with a speed that was unnatural for something of its size, using its arms to help propel it through the boggy waters.

"Shoot! Shoot!" Ellis was shouting, and the four of them ended up separating from each other, all struggling to kick their way through the mud.

The Tank just so happened to settle its fiery gaze on Rochelle, who was having the most trouble trying to get away. She'd been trying to backtrack, to go back the way they'd come – there'd been some dry land that she could have moved faster on, if only she could get to it – but she seemed to be sinking into the mire now.

It was like she'd stepped into a trap of sorts – she couldn't lift her leg. She cursed, trying to tug her boot out of it, and she aimed her assault rifle as the Tank drew nearer and nearer. She had a crazy idea about pulling her shoe off to try and make a run for it, but she would have never had time.

The rifle shook in her hands as bullets tore from it, smacking wetly into the Tank's pink and deformed body. The ground was shaking now, and Rochelle couldn't help but holler incoherently – why was it that it was always _her_? Were the Infected just attracted to her for some reason?

When the Tank punched her, she didn't feel the pain at first.

She _did_ feel the wind that whooshed past her as she flew through the air. Well, that was certainly one way to get unstuck from the mud.

Rochelle's landing was surprisingly soft. She landed half on a grassy knoll, and half in the water, and she tried to pull herself up on the bank – she _tried_, but her body screamed in protest, a huge wave of agony rolling through her. She winced, but after a moment of looking over herself, she figured that the only mark she'd have was one very large bruise – she'd mostly just gotten the wind knocked out of her.

All of a sudden, there was a loud crash beside her, and she flinched as bits and pieces of wood showered her – the Tank had picked up a fallen log and heaved it at her. This served as the reminder Rochelle needed that she wasn't yet out of trouble.

That and the angry yell from the Tank, of course, as it made its way towards her.

"Damnit, can't you leave me alone?" she moaned, her hands going for her assault rifle. They came up empty however, and she realized that she'd dropped her gun when the Tank had hit her.

Shit, shit, shit.

Nick and Ellis were running behind the Tank, shooting at it, and Coach was coming up from the side, as if he thought he'd be able to make it Rochelle before the Tank could. Rochelle pulled out her dual handguns, and she quickly started to empty the magazines into the monster – it barely flinched.

"Don't stop shooting!" Coach's voice was barely loud enough to be heard over all of the ruckus.

"Molotov coming!"

Even with Nick's warning, Rochelle was still startled when the Tank abruptly ignited, the fire from the molotov spreading over its body quickly. The Tank stopped, letting out a howl that was both one of pain, and one of fury, and it reared back as if it was trying to get away from the fire.

"Get up, girl, _move_!" Coach was shouting at Rochelle.

Struggling against the uneasiness of her body – you try getting pitched across a swamp – Rochelle tried to pull herself up out of the mucky waters. The Tank's beady gaze landed on her again, and it closed the distance between them again, despite the fact that it was still a raging inferno.

It moved a lot slower now however, slow enough for Nick to catch up with it. Coming around the side of it, it barely had time to even blink before Nick swung his axe and buried the blade right into its face. The large body swayed back and forth, and Nick tore the hatchet out, and then swung again.

As the Tank fell backwards, Ellis cursed at Nick as he jumped out of the way, and after a moment, a ringing silence fell over them. The Tank's body was still smoldering even though most of the fire had gone out when he'd hit the water, and Ellis poked at one of its fleshy shoulders with the tip of his shotgun.

Rochelle let out a sigh of relief, and she put her handguns away. Coach and Nick were making their way towards her, and she noticed that Nick was shaking off one of his hands, as if he'd gotten something on it.

Without thinking, she asked, "What's wrong?"

"You just got knocked out by a Tank and you're worried about me?" he asked, looking very close to rolling his eyes. "I just burnt myself trying to light that son of a bitch. Here." He held a hand out to her.

"You see that mother fry?" Ellis hooted cheerfully.

"Boy, get away from there," Coach said. "You shouldn't play with shit like that. That's messed up."

Rochelle took Nick's hand, and he pulled her quickly to her feet. They were standing on a slant, and she swayed towards him unintentionally as she straightened, coming quite close to him. Close enough that she caught a whiff of the cheap cologne that was buried beneath sweat, dirt and brain matter.

In other words, she came _too_ close to him.

"Thanks," she said, taking a step away from him.

"Are you okay?" he asked her. "We only have one health pack between all of us for now, and I'd prefer to hold onto it, just in case. Think you can hold out?"

"I'm fine," she said, nodding quickly. "Your thumb?"

He shook his head. "Nothing I can't handle," he answered. "Usually I'm good with a lighter. Guess I just got worried."

"About me?" she asked, and she couldn't help but grin. "And here I thought you didn't have a heart, fancy man."

"Don't press your luck," he said, but he'd smiled as well.

-

**III.**

"This was a bad idea."

"Don't look at me, it wasn't mine."

The room was dark and empty, almost too silent. Rochelle leaned against the wall by the open window, and she stared outside onto the brightly-lit town. Sometimes it was almost weird to see the sun, and despite everything that she was going through, it made her feel... nice.

Something about the sun just made her feel hopeful.

"Something could happen to them," she said.

"Didn't I just say it wasn't my idea?"

She sighed and looked sideways at Nick, who was sitting on the bare and stripped bed behind her. A little while before, Coach and Ellis had disappeared to search ahead, to see if there was anything worth getting to, leaving Nick and Rochelle back to search the houses.

After having searched all of them, the two had found nothing of use.

And now Rochelle was starting to feel a little antsy – what if there was a Tank that took out both Ellis and Coach? What if there was a Witch?

Leave it to Coach to come up with most of the plans.

"Look, I'm sure they're fine," Nick said, standing up. "We haven't heard any gunshots, no hordes have come, and this is a small town. We'd know if something was up."

"We should have still went with them," she said, and picking her blood-stained axe up from the rickety table where she'd set it, she started towards the open doorway.

"Where're you going?"

"I need some air," she said, and she tossed a grin over her shoulder. "Don't worry – I won't leave you alone."

"Who said I was worried about me?" he asked, and she could hear his footsteps on the hardwood floor as he followed her. "Maybe I'm worried of what'll happen to you if left alone."

"I thought I've already proven that I could handle myself," Rochelle said.

"No. You've only proven that you're some sort of danger magnet," he told her.

They both stopped now that they were standing on the porch of the shanty, and Rochelle threw another look around the ghost town. She half-expected to see a tumbleweed blow by.

"I can't help it that everyone wants a piece of me," she said playfully, her gaze sliding back to him.

"Keep yapping," he said, but he hadn't stopped smiling yet.

Unexpectedly, there came a familiar – and very unwanted – noise. The sound of a Hunter wailing, and he was close.

Rochelle spun to her right just in time to see the hooded figure leaping into the air, soaring right towards her. She readied her axe, grasp tightening on the worn, wooden handle, but before she even had a chance to swing it, Nick had jumped in front of her.

In a swift motion, he punched the Hunter in the chest, the force stopping it mid-air. It fell to the wooden planks with a yelp of surprise, its loss of momentum making it stumble backwards, and in the time it took for Rochelle to blink, Nick had fired his magnum. The bullet buried itself right between the Hunter's eyes, and it collapsed in a heap.

"Why am I getting the distinct impression that you don't think I can take care of myself?" she asked him, but her tone wasn't accusatory.

He turned to her. "Because you're self-conscious," he said simply. "I was just doing what any friend would do for you."

"Oh, so we're friends now?" she asked him, and even though her heart was still racing, she smiled again. "Mr. I'm-Not-Gonna-Stick-Around."

"What can I say?" He grinned, and he closed the gap between them, stopping quite close to her. Because he was a few inches taller than her, she had to look up at him. "Something made me change my mind."

"Like I said – I can't help it everyone wants a piece of me."

His eyes gleamed in amusement, but he didn't laugh – it took a _really_ good joke to make him laugh, she'd noticed. Or a good shot on an Infected.

Before he could retort to her comment, there were footsteps.

The others had returned. Ellis reached them first, his feet kicking up clouds of dust as he jogged towards them, and Coach ambled up behind him.

"You guys alright?" Ellis asked, panting as he came to a stop. "Heard the shot."

"Just a Hunter," Nick said, his smile fading as he turned to face the others. "What took you guys so long?"

"Get this, there's a plantation house up there," Ellis said, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. "All these little shacks down here and there's a damn mansion up on the hill." He chortled in laughter.

"What's the plan, Coach?" Rochelle asked, looking to the older man. He had that expression on his face, the one that said he was getting ready for something epic.

"There's a radio out back," Coach explained. "We already tried it and it works; somebody named Virgil's on the other end, and he's ready to pick us up. All we gotta do is signal him again and he'll be here."

"How?" Nick asked.

"Boat," Ellis answered, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. "There's a river out back."

"I'm sensing there's a 'but' in this," Nick said.

"Well, it seems like everything we do alerts a horde," Coach said on a sigh. "Can't even sneeze without having a mess of zombies on us."

"Yeah, so we're probably in for another big fight," Ellis said nodding, and if he'd been wearing suspenders, he probably would have snapped them. Damn kid thought he was invincible – he acted like he'd been fighting zombies his entire life. He grinned again. "But wait till you see this house, man, it's _huge_."

"Sounds great, Ellis," Nick said, and poor sweet Ellis was the only one who didn't hear the cynicism in his tone.

"Back up the hill," Coach said, heaving a great sigh.

As they all started to trek off up the road, Coach grumping and Ellis poking light fun at him, Rochelle side-glanced Nick. If she and he had met under any other circumstances, she never would have given him a second look. She probably would have called him out on being a lowlife conman and gone merrily on her way.

But now she was quite glad that she knew him. Glad that she had him there with her.

"Think you'll let me kill my own zombies this time?" she asked when he'd looked at her.

"Only 'cause it'll be that much sweeter when you're begging for my help," he said.

"Oh we'll see who does the begging."

-

**IV.**

The wind howled and the sheets of rain that fell from the sky became even thicker. Thunder boomed, making the ground shake with the force of it and a streak of lightning cracked the sky, illuminating the whole area. It was so bad that Rochelle could barely see her hand in front of her face, and the men were mere silhouettes before her.

"Here it comes!" Ellis shouted over the rain, his voice sounding like it was coming from very far away.

"Everybody stay together!" Nick barked, and Rochelle mindlessly moved closer to him, the gas on her back making her feel like one of those little Jockey bastards was riding her. You'd never guess just how heavy gas could be.

"Which way?" Rochelle asked loudly, squinting into the darkness. "I can't see shit out here."

"Here!" Coach exclaimed. "Up this ladder – we can get across on the roofs."

That didn't necessarily sound like such a good idea to Rochelle. Slippery roof shingles plus enough wind to almost knock a Charger over? Sounded like an accident waiting to happen.

A hand wrapped around one of her wrists, and she realized it was Nick – she recognized his white suit, and if she tried hard enough, she could make out his face. His grip was rough and warm, but not unwelcome – even as he practically yanked her towards him, she wasn't bothered by it.

He placed her in front of the ladder Coach had been talking about, and she was suddenly aware of the fact that Coach and Ellis were already at the top, waiting for her.

"Go!" Nick had to shout over the rain.

The ladder was soaked and slick, the soles of her boots slipping on the metal as she climbed. As she neared the top, Ellis grabbed her shoulders to help her up, and after steadying her on the roof beside him, he bent to help Nick.

Another crack of lightning split the black sky, and Rochelle flinched as the thunder followed it. She knew it was just in her head, but it seemed like the thunder had even more of a ground-shaking effect than a Tank had.

"This is insane!" she shouted to Coach. "We're never gonna make it!"

"Don't you be talking like that, Ro!" Coach shouted back. "It can't last all night, right?"

As if on cue, the rain seemed to lessen. As if it'd been thwarted by Coach's mere faith and optimism. The wind still howled, making Rochelle stagger slightly, and the thunder and lightning kept at it, but at least she could see now. She wiped her face with the back of one of her hands.

"This way," Ellis said, taking the lead.

Rochelle looked to Nick to make sure that they were all there, but before she could get much farther than a few steps, a Smoker screamed from somewhere behind her. After all the damn Witches they'd just dealt with, Rochelle thought they deserved a break, but apparently the universe was just out to get them.

Sometimes she thought that they just really weren't meant to survive.

Before she could turn and look for the foul thing however, she was hit. The Smoker's slimy and fetid tongue wrapped around her waist tightly, it's grip vice-like, and she yelped as she lost her balance.

"No!" she shouted, just as the Smoker started to reel her in, a fisherman pulling in his latest catch. "Help me!"

Nick dove forward, grabbing her by the arms and keeping her from falling off the roof, while Ellis and Coach readied their guns and started firing. Her arms felt like they were going to be torn out of their sockets, but she obviously didn't want Nick to let her go.

She cried out as the tongue tightened around her, starting to constrict her, and Nick cursed in her ear, his breath hot against her wet skin.

"Hold on," he said to her. "Don't let go."

The Smoker exploded – she heard it, rather than saw it – and the stress around her waist subsided. But now that the Smoker wasn't holding her up, her feet started to slip and slide on the shingles of the roof. Her arms slipped out of Nick's hands because of all the rain, and she fell to her stomach painfully, the wind getting knocked out of her.

Her fingers scrabbled for any kind of hold she could get, but she was sliding backwards towards the edge too fast.

Would a fall from this height kill her? Or would it just break both of her legs and render her useless and incapacitated? She didn't know, and she'd never been too good at guesstimating things like that. All she did know was that it would be a completely shitty way for her to die.

More humiliating than death by Jockey.

She gasped as she went over the edge, grasping the gutter tightly in both hands and holding on for dear life. The gutter groaned under her weight, bouncing and shifting, coming apart from the house and making her curse under her breath.

She just never got a break.

Nick was there in a flash however, and she realized that she was safe, even before he'd grabbed her arms again and started to pull her up. "I got you," he said to her as he helped her up.

"Man, I'm getting my ass kicked here," she said wearily, stumbling and leaning against him as he pulled her away from the ledge.

"Yeah, well, it's a good thing I'm here," he said, and he gave her one of his cockiest smirks yet. "You can thank me later."

"I ought to punch your lights out," she said.

"That's why you're still holding onto me, huh?" he asked, and she realized with mild embarrassment that one of her arms was draped around his neck. "Who wants a piece of who now?"

As she stepped away from him, rolling her eyes, Ellis moved forward to help her get the Smoker's tongue off of her. She cringed as he grabbed at it with his bare hands, untying it and throwing it to the ground below them.

"I think the rain's letting up, guys," he said, looking up at the sky.

"We're gonna make it," Coach said. "Let's get movin', people."

And for once, Rochelle felt her mood elate. If Coach could still have faith after everything they'd been through, then so could she. Especially if Nick was always going to be there to catch her if she fell – she realized that she trusted this man more than she'd ever trusted any man before in her life.

She also realized that she might have felt something else for him, but that wasn't the kind of stuff you were supposed to think about in the middle of a zombie apocalypse.

-

**V.**

"'Copter's here guys!"

At the sound of Coach's excited shout, Nick felt his own spirits lift, despite himself. A helicopter was slowly lowering itself just beyond the fence, and he watched as the back of it opened up – it was opening up for them.

They were saved. After all of the shit they'd just been through, having to fight their way out of this damn hellhole, they were _saved_.

"I can't believe it," Rochelle said from somewhere beside him. "We're almost home free, boys."

"Well then, let's get out of here," Ellis shouted.

The Infected swarmed in clusters behind them, and Nick gave Rochelle's shoulder a little shove to get her ahead of him as they moved. It was just natural of him to put her first lately, and he couldn't explain why – dare he admit that he'd actually grown fond of her?

"Let's go, let's go!" Ellis sounded like he was rooting for a football game, and he was winding and pumping his arm like he was trying to rev everyone up. "Aw shit, can you believe it?"

They made their way past the barricades, around the fallen tents and over the broken tables, and each step brought them closer to the helicopter. Nick threw a glance over his shoulder and saw that the Infected were also coming closer and closer – these things just never gave up.

Aiming his magnum behind him, he emptied the clip quickly. Then, since he was out of bullets for it, he threw it with all of his might at the closest zombie. It hit the thing in the head, sending it to the ground, but he didn't stay to watch it get back up.

When he turned back around, Rochelle was struggling to light a pipe bomb as they ran. Wanting to smile at her effort, he held his hand out for it, and she gave it up without question. She then slapped the silver lighter into his hands.

"Don't burn your thumb," she said, and he was almost unable to believe that she was grinning at him. Unlike a lot of the smiles she'd given him in the past, this one lit up her eyes and made her look more youthful.

Nick discovered that he really liked this smile.

"Better look where you're going," he said, "Can't have you tripping and falling behind or anything. Might not have the time to save you."

"Yeah, like you could ever leave me behind," she said, before letting out a laugh.

It was almost crazy to believe how joyful they all felt just at the sight of the helicopter, and they hadn't even reached it yet. But Nick knew the feeling – the swelling of his chest, the way his stomach had clenched into an icy fist. The emotions were overwhelming, and it was enough to make him want to join in with her laughter.

He lit the fuse of the pipe bomb, dropping the lighter rather than trying to shove it into one of his pockets, and he looked over his shoulder again. Taking in a deep breath, he tossed the bomb.

"Bite on that you zombie bastards!" he shouted as the Infected all changed course drastically, turning to follow the high-pitched beeping.

The exhilaration Nick was feeling was cut off rather abruptly, however.

"Oh no!" Rochelle exclaimed.

"Look out!" Coach pointed.

An overturned trailer came flying through the air towards them, the unmistakable yell of a Tank slicing through the air. Because the trailer was headed straight for him, Nick had only a moment to think before he threw himself out of the way of it – and away from the others.

He landed hard on the tarmac, the trailer crashing down beside him, and he groaned in pain – the back of his head had struck the pavement, and colorful spots bloomed in his vision. God damned Tank.

"Shoot it, shoot it!" He could hear Ellis' frantic voice, but the trailer blocked his view of the other three.

Nick started to sit up, rubbing at the back of his head – he could feel something sticky and wet, and he couldn't believe he'd actually cracked his head open on the street. Just his luck. He turned in time to see a mob of zombies running at him – the pipe bomb had already exploded, and now there seemed to be more Infected than ever.

And they all had their sight on him.

"_Shit_," he said, pulling out his AK-47.

He could hear the others yelling as they fought the Tank, and he could hear the Tank's yells of pain and anger, but from this side of the trailer, Nick couldn't see anything. Wouldn't it be about a bitch if they were all killed just outside the helicopter?

Why weren't those army bastards coming out to help? They probably had rocket launchers or some shit, and yet they just sat in their safe little haven, watching the others struggle.

Assholes.

Unloading a clip into the first wave of zombies after him, Nick quickly reloaded. He punched at some of the other Infected, hitting them with his gun, and he tried to move around the trailer, needing to see a better view.

Needing to see if Rochelle was okay. If she was the only one who made it to the helicopter, he could die with that. Maybe Ellis. Ah hell, Coach too.

He'd never admit it, but as long as those three got onto the chopper safely, he didn't care if he was left behind. When he'd first met this motley crew of survivors, he never thought he'd see the day when he actually cared about their safety.

Rochelle's voice rang in his mind: _Mr. I'm-Not-Gonna-Stick-Around_.

The Tank went down, and fortunately, it didn't seem like any of the others had gotten injured.

They were, however, much closer to the helicopter than he was. They'd already dropped down from the road where he was, and he could barely make them out in the distance.

"Get onto the helicopter," a stiff voice sounded from a speaker somewhere – it was the pilot of the chopper.

Nick didn't have time.

He emptied another clip into the Infected that rushed at him, and he waved one of his arms, gesturing towards the helicopter. "Go!" he shouted as loud as he could. "Get out of here!"

He slapped at one of his pockets for more ammo, and with a sick sense of dread he realized that he was out. He remembered that he hadn't grabbed any from the back of that truck on the bridge, because he'd been worried about Rochelle and the Hunter that had been stalking her.

God damnit.

He swung the gun around like it was a baseball bat, and he clocked a few of the zombies upside their heads. Then he dropped the AK and pulled out the machete he'd been holding onto – thank God for small favors, right?

There were too many zombies though, more and more just pouring out of any hiding place there was. He thought it was probably the biggest amount of zombies he'd ever seen, and he would have rolled his eyes if he hadn't been so damn angry.

And scared.

For the first time, he'd admit that he was scared.

Why didn't he save one of his handguns? He'd rather put a bullet in his own head than let those bastards tear him to pieces, and he should have known that it'd come to this. Maybe he could slit his own throat with the machete.

And that's when he saw her.

Forcing her way through the tide of Infected, Rochelle was swinging her axe like a professional. There was a look of deep concentration on her face, and the Infected parted before her like the red sea, making her look inhuman and godly. There might as well have been a golden backdrop behind her, because Nick was convinced that he could hear the angels singing.

She was beautiful. A warrior woman.

And she'd come back for _him_. A troublemaking scoundrel with a penchant for douchebaggery and bitterness, a complete asshole who'd spent most of his life being mean to others.

She'd come back for him.

When she'd made her way to him, she grabbed a fistful of his blue shirt and yanked him out of the huddle of Infected who were clutching at him.

"You didn't actually think I'd leave without you, did you?" she asked him angrily. "Now _move_!"

Maybe later on in life, Nick would come to be embarrassed that a woman had upstaged him. Maybe he'd feel a little mortified about the fact that Rochelle had singlehandedly cleared a path for she and him to get the chopper, while he had been mere inches from trying to kill himself with a damn machete like some sort of coward.

But he felt none of that now. All he felt was the biggest surge of gratitude that he'd ever experienced in his life.

And something else he'd only ever felt one time before.

"Come on, come on!"

Standing at the opening of the helicopter, Coach and Ellis' guns were rattling off shots. As Nick and Rochelle ran towards them, the bullets zipped past them, effectively taking care of anything that threatened to make this an even more difficult escape.

It wasn't until they were all boarding the helicopter that Nick realized he and Rochelle were holding hands. She was squeezing his fingers so hard that he felt she might break them, but he didn't care – he couldn't find it in him to care.

She'd come back for him.

The helicopter lurched as it started to lift up off the ground, the hatch closing slowly, and Ellis had already started to celebrate. Nick threw a glance back at him to see that the youngest of them had taken his hat off and was swinging it around like a lasso of sorts as he hooted and cheered. Coach was grinning, covered in a thick layer of perspiration and shaking his head, but grinning nonetheless.

Nick turned back to Rochelle.

She looked at him, her chest heaving with every breath she took, and her eyes searched his face almost desperately as a muscle in her jaw clenched. Her expression was too hard for him to read, and he knew he should speak.

Before he could think of anything smart to say though, she kissed him. Hard.

And everything was right in the world.


End file.
